


this is side one (flip me over)

by stickthelanding



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelic Grace Kink (Supernatural), Coda, Episode: s12e19 The Future, Explicit Sexual Content, Face Slapping, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Spit Kink, that scene where dean is like cas came into my room and played me. you know.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:55:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28882797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stickthelanding/pseuds/stickthelanding
Summary: “I like to keep it close,” Dean takes a swig of the beer that’s been cooling down on the table for half an hour and makes a face at both the temperature and the conversation. “He came into my room and he played me.”or: the one with that scene in 12x19 and how exactly Cas played Dean.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 24
Kudos: 215





	this is side one (flip me over)

**Author's Note:**

> cannot believe i am typing the following sentence in 2021: title from dead on arrival by fall out boy

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose. Sam is looking at him the way he does when he knows his brother has fucked up but he’s still giving him the benefit of the doubt, and he’s seen it a hundred times but it always gives him a headache.

“Stop that,” Dean asks, leaning on the table with both his hands. He stares into nothing in particular, at the sea of maps laid down in front of him.

“I’m just saying,” Sam ignores him, “I don’t know how Cas could have opened the safe.”

“It wasn’t in the safe.” Dean sighs and doesn’t need to look at his brother to know he’s crossing his arms at him like he’s waiting for an explanation. “It was under my pillow.”

“It—“ Sam looks like he’s about to have a conniption.

“I like to keep it close,” Dean takes a swig of the beer that’s been cooling down on the table for half an hour and makes a face at both the temperature and the conversation. “He came into my room and he played me.”

Sam wipes a hand across his face, exasperated, then he takes a deep breath and says, “okay,” and looks at Dean in a way that means _I’m only dropping this because we have bigger problems right now and we will be talking about this later_.

Dean downs the beer.

***

Rewind the tape back a few hours and Dean is in the library with a glass of whiskey dangerously close to spilling on the table and Cas’ hands fisting at the front of his shirt while he kisses him stupid. This doesn’t happen very often, exactly; hasn’t for a while, but Cas followed him in after their mixtape-related conversation and told him that maybe they were better together, and, well. Dean’s not entirely sure that this is what he meant when he said it, but he’s not complaining.

He’s not complaining either when Cas pushes him into his room and he walks backwards until the back of his knees find the edge of his bed— a few years ago they wouldn’t have bothered to leave the library, but he’s pushing forty and knows from experience his back would disagree with getting fucked on a table now.

"Should we put the mixtape on?" Cas asks while he undoes Dean's belt unceremoniously and pulls his jeans and boxers down in one smooth tug.

"Unless you wanna—" Cas takes the head of his dick into his mouth and swirls his tongue around it, drags precum down the rest of Dean's cock with his tongue. "Fuck—"

With a smile, Cas pulls Dean's dick out of his mouth to respond. "That's the idea, yes." He's unlacing Dean's boots without even looking down, muscle memory kicking in.

"Okay, genius," Dean retorts, which is awfully brazen given that there are teeth awfully close to his dick.

Cas pulls his pants all the way off past his ankles and crawls back up, hooks his arms underneath Dean's and manhandles him so he's further up on the bed and not dangling off the edge. Dean's breath hitches. "Thank you." He lingers with his whole weight over him, their faces just far enough that Dean can't lean in for a kiss. "It's always nice to have my blowjob skills recognised." He leans down to ghost his lips on Dean's neck, hands moving to hold his wrists above his head.

"You were saying?" He taunts when Dean moans, his train of thought completely derailed.

It takes a few seconds for him to form a response, what with the fact Cas' dick is rubbing against his through Cas' jeans and the faint feeling of teeth behind his ear. "Uh, unless you wanna take this to my car—ugh, Cas— I don't have a tape deck to play it with," he breathes out.

Cas lets go of him momentarily to pull his shirt over his head and Dean looks up at him still dressed in his suit, his coat abandoned somewhere on his floor. He's always loved doing this, undressing Dean before he even takes off his jacket. "So you were trying to lure me into your car. How devious of you."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"You're not going anywhere tonight," Cas tells him, drops his voice low. "Not that I don't love fucking you in the backseat."

Dean's laugh mixes with the pool of arousal in his gut. "You've fucked me in worse places." With that, he grabs at Cas' tie and pulls him down, revels in the flash of surprise in his eyes before it's replaced by the predatory gaze that always makes him lightheaded. One of Cas' hands moves to circle his wrists while the other one grabs Dean's chin forcefully, holds his mouth open so he can spit in his mouth. Dean bucks his hips, his dick forming a wet patch on the front of Cas' pants.

Cas pins his wrists down on either side of his face again and leans back, leaves them there while he sits on Dean's lap. "Do I need to get the handcuffs?"

"'m done," Dean answers, boneless. "Unless it's that kind of night." He looks up at him through half-lidded eyes.

Cas quirks an eyebrow and regards him for a second, considers it. "No, I think we could both use the stress relief." He undoes his tie, lets it fall into the sheets. The next thing Dean knows Cas is biting down on his bottom lip hard while he's working on his shirt buttons, touching every expanse of skin he can get his hands on.

"Off," Dean groans into his mouth with Cas' belt buckle in hand. Cas leans back on his knees, makes eye contact the whole time he undoes his belt. He rolls over to step out of his pants —he's not wearing any boxers, rarely does — and when he goes to climb back over Dean, Dean pulls him towards his face. He's hungry for it, holds Cas' hips close and wraps his mouth around him with a moan. Cas looks him in the eye and finds what Dean had once referred to as his 'fuck my face' look, so he does; he knots a hand in Dean's hair and thrusts into his mouth, rolls his hips obscenely deep.

The vibrations from Dean’s humming and moaning have him weak at the knees just like they do every time they do this— it’s one of his favourite things about sleeping with him, how vocal he is. The first time they’d slept together Dean bit his knuckles and willed himself to be silent until Cas asked to hear him. He started shy still, with just a whimper, until Cas bit his neck and told him, low and gravelly, "I said I wanted to hear you."

It's the same voice he's using now, locking eyes with him, and he's such a sight with Cas' dick thrusting into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing out while sweat starts to bead at his temples. "You've missed this," Cas says between thrusts. Dean's response comes in the form of a choked-out moan muffled by Cas hitting the back of his throat. The way his vocal cords vibrate with it ripples through Cas, his grip in Dean's hair tightening. "Dean—" he starts, cuts himself off with a moan when Dean pulls him in even closer, grabs his hips hard enough to bruise.

Cas pulls out of his mouth then, refuses to go any longer without fucking him deep and hard; he kisses Dean furiously, feels their cocks rub together, slick and dry skin coming into contact. Dean's hands are grabbing at his back, his shoulders, leaving marks shaped like half-moons in the wake of his nails digging into his skin. Dean bites his bottom lip hard and sucks the blood into his mouth, his lips smeared red when Cas pulls away to look at him. He's giving him his brattiest smirk and it makes Cas want to take him apart bit by bit — he wants to make Dean beg for it for hours until he's hoarse, but he's worked up already and not willing to wait any longer, so he settles for slapping him across the face instead. Dean's dick visibly twitches.

"We're so fucked up," Dean laughs.

"Mhm," Cas hums, because they are, is the thing. After a decade of deals with the devil and betrayal and death, there isn't room for much more than being fucked up anymore; they're left with fucking in backseats and handjobs in diner bathrooms and not much else, but they'd made their peace with that years ago. And for a while they did try to find the room for something else, to be together in a more structured way, but death and blood have never been known for being willing to share space with stability. So it's this they're left with— bone-deep devotion that they won't put a name on and skin against skin, Cas using his grace along with lube to work Dean open.

It's always an indescribable feeling when Dean feels a hint of grace brushing along his prostate while Cas fingers him; it makes his whole world go white-hot except for Cas' fingers inside him. They've done this sans grace, too, but when Cas gets especially eager he takes the shortcut and Dean fucking revels in it. 

"C'mon," Dean breathes, reaches for Cas and pulls him in close. He's arching his back and his eyes are boring into Cas. The way he bares his neck when Cas twists his wrist while he's fingering him is enough to convince him to let his grace do the rest of the job. He sinks his teeth into Dean's neck in a way that makes them both shiver, tastes sweat and soap and cologne and the familiar hint of a soul he knows down to the marrow.

When he pushes inside both of them know they're not going to last very long— they're getting older, angel powers or no. Cas isn't as spry as he used to be, a result of losing and regaining his grace so many times over the years; Dean, for himself, is ageing. Cas looks at him, sees the way time has marked him and how crows feet show up when his eyes shut now, notices the way the skin between on his forehead folds when he fucks him harder and he knits his eyebrows together. Time looks good on Dean, he thinks.

Dean's legs wrap around his waist tight when Cas kisses him and they moan in each other's mouths, close and intense. Cas slows his rhythm then, starts thrusting slower and deeper into him, and when they pull away from kissing his left hand finds Dean's left shoulder, rests on the raised handprint mark he left there a decade ago.

"Cas," Dean says, green eyes half-shut. "Fuck, you're— you've ruined sex with everyone else for me, y'know that?" He's breathless and raw and honest, far from the wall he usually puts up.

"You're flattering me." Cas rests their foreheads together, almost too intimate.

"Nah," he adds, moves a hand from Cas' back to the back of his neck. "'s true. There's no o— nothing like this." He pulls Cas into a searing, deep kiss, licks into his mouth like his life might depend on it, and Cas cups his face with his right hand. Dean's left palm comes up to rest against the back of Cas', layered on top of the handprint.

Cas can feel the waves of an orgasm starting to wash over him and guesses Dean isn't far behind either from the way his legs are shaking around him, so he reaches between them and wraps a hand around him, lets Dean fuck into his fist, and Cas is gone then, comes deep inside him. A minute later Dean laces their fingers together when he comes with a moan.

They're quiet for a long time in the aftermath. Cas rolls over onto his back and breathes hard even though he doesn't technically need to— something he picked up when he was human. Dean is boneless once he's cleaned them up like he always is after sex and Cas understands why he used to use sex as a coping mechanism; it knocks him right out. He sprawls out on his front and holds a pillow to his face. He doesn't have to tell Cas he can stay. They're used to it, to falling asleep together but not necessarily waking up next to each other.

***

In the morning, Dean wakes up and doesn't notice the Colt is missing.

**Author's Note:**

> i would love to know what you thought, and you can also find me on [tumblr](https://tallahasseemp3.tumblr.com)


End file.
